


That Magic Second Kiss

by BoredRavenvlaw620



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Charmed Mistletoe, Christmas Fluff, F/M, First Kisses, Fred lives because I want him to, Hermione Has A Crush, Hermione plays Quidditch, Second kisses, Sweet supportive Ron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredRavenvlaw620/pseuds/BoredRavenvlaw620
Summary: After having a crush on your best friend’s older brother for so long, what’s a girl to do? Kiss him twice of course!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 182





	That Magic Second Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RooOJoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooOJoy/gifts).



> This is my first Charmione. It was written as a Secret Santa gift for RooOJoy. Happy Christmas! I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you to Mcal for Alpha and Beta’ing for me. She’s a gem y’all! 
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are my own. I do not own any rights to Harry Potter and Co.

* * *

  
Hermione Granger is an observant, detail-oriented person. So, it's no great surprise that when she met Charlie Weasley for the first time, during her fourth year of Hogwarts, she noticed the wild spark in his blue eyes, the strong slope of his shoulders that lead to ropey forearms, and work-hardened, masculine hands, his broad chest covered in dragon tamer leather… where were we? Oh, yes! Indeed, she noticed Charlie Weasley was an attractive man. 

But her life being what it was, there were always distractions. Keeping Harry alive through yet _another_ overly complicated assasination plot was most time consuming and of course there was the issue of a certain quiet, brooding, international Quidditch star. Crushes on attractive older brothers of best friends would have to wait a bit. 

Christmas of fifth year found Hermione ensconced with the entire Weasley clan at Grimmauld place; Mr. Weasley convalescing from his run in with Nagini. It was most pleasantly intriguing, to find Charlie in the dusty Black family library studying dragon husbandry and researching old trade laws. Hermione's crush sparked anew at his ability to carry on a conversation about anything other than Quidditch coupled with his passion for animal rights.

It couldn't possibly have been the incident where she ran face first into a towel clad Charlie as he exited the washroom. Yes, it was definitely the creature activism, not the well-defined chest and abdomen that ended in that mythical ‘V’ making her mouth go dry and her tongue dart out wanting to lick… wait, what? Oh, yes, it was definitely the animal thing. 

Although seven years wasn’t an age gap that could not be bridged, Charlie _did_ live in Romania, and she in Britain. Not to mention dark overlords with hoards of sycophants from whom the Wizarding World needed saving. Alas, again, her crush would have to wait. 

After the war ended and life settled into a somewhat mundane pace, her interest in Charlie lay dormant at the back of her mind. She’d pop to attention when his name was mentioned at a Weasley family function, asking after him and enduring the knowing, teasing glances from Ginny, Fred and George. It was just a crush. Besides, he had his dragons in Romania, and she her policy reform with the Ministry, they were much too busy to entertain a _crush_ . 

* * *

The Floo was still sparkling green when Hermione was engulfed in an enthusiastic hug. “Hermione, thank goodness you're finally here!”

“I'm glad to be here too, Gin, but can you ease up? I can't breath.”

Ginny released her from the hug, but grasped her hand and practically dragged her up the stairs, Molly Weasley calling after them to hurry back and help in the kitchen.

Ginny slammed the door of the bedroom, falling back against it. “Everything all right there, Ginny?” Hermione tried not to laugh at her friend’s frustration.

“She is relentless. It's not enough that I'm engaged. Oh, no! We _must_ set the date, pick out table cloths, decide if we want the chicken or egg salad finger sandwiches.” 

Hermione gave her a sympathetic smile. “What does Harry say about it?”

“He’s no help! He just says, “ _Oh, Molly, that sounds splendid. Your taste is truly the pinnacle of class.”_ Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, Ginny’s impression of Harry was abysmal. 

“He did not say that?” 

Ginny collapsed on her bed, taken with amusement as well. “Of course not, imagine how insufferable Mum would be if he did. He just blanketly agrees with whatever she says, so naturally, I'm the bad guy.”

Hermione offered a consoling pat on the knee as she finished unpacking and then dragged Ginny back down stairs to help with the Christmas preparations.

The following morning, Hermione rose at an ungodly hour so as to avoid the morning rush in the only upper floor washroom. In her haste to avail herself of the facilities, she neglected to bring her change of clothes into the lavatory. There was no help for it, she’d just have to wrap herself in the towel and dash back to Ginny’s room. 

It was a perfect plan, she couldn’t hear anyone moving here at the top of the house, so her scantily clad escape should have gone off without a hitch. But hitches in plans and Hermione Granger had a sort of magnetic attraction, and who was Hermione to defy the laws of nature in such a way?

Her towel wrapped tightly around her torso, she eased the door open, snuck through the gap–so far so good–then she pulled the door to quietly and turned, making her break for it. That’s when she ran face first into the hitch. A shirtless hitch with defined pectorals, cut abs and, _oh sweet Circe_ , that ‘V’. 

He grabbed her upper arms to keep her from falling backward and gave her a sleepy smile that went perfectly with his scruffled morning hair and light stubble, and had her biting her lip thinking of all the naughty ways she could contribute to that look and… oh, right, she was only in a towel here. She clutched her hands to her towel clad chest and pulled from his grasp, stammering _good morning_ and _sorry_ and _didn’t see you there_ . He chuckled at her as he turned to enter the washroom, scratching at the back of his neck making his back muscles ripple in _a most_ delightful way. 

He glanced over his shoulder before ducking inside to catch her watching him. It was that roguish little wink and a teasing, “Nice running into you too, Firecracker,” that did her in. Her crush on Charlie Weasley reignited in a pyre of sexual frustration and embarrassment. 

She dashed into Ginny’s room and much like her friend the day before, fell back into the door bemoaning her distinct lack of cool when faced with the second eldest Weasley Brother.

Ginny groaned from the intrusion, “Why must you make so much noise this early? I’m on holiday here.”

“Sorry, Gin. I’m just scolding myself for being such an absolute clod in front of you brother.”

“Oh, please, Ron is clod all the time. No worries there.” Ginny waved her off and pulled the covers higher, burrowing into their warmth.

“Not Ron,” Hermione whinged pulling on a comfortable pair of denims and warm jumper, “Charlie.”

The face that peeked out of the covers was plasterd with a shite-eating grin. “ _I see_. The dragon tamer lights your fire does he?”

Hermione threw a pillow from her bed at Ginny, who grabbed it from the air and cuddled it into her side. “You know I have a crush on Charlie. Have for some time, if I’m honest, but he’s a bit older and lives in Romania, it will probably never happen.”

“Never say never.” Ginny mumbled as she rolled over, spooning the pillow and falling back asleep.

Hermione rolled her eyes and left the room to see if she could help Molly with breakfast.

* * *

Molly Weasley had a special gift for keeping a person busy. No sooner were Hermione’s feet on the ground floor of the Burrow than she was put to work dicing potatoes for a breakfast hash and periodically tending a mulled cider simmering on the stove top. Other family members trickled down accepting their assignments and soon a massive breakfast was laid out along the scrubbed wooden table. 

Hermione stopped a moment in the doorway of the kitchen to watch her surrogate family gather for Christmas Eve breakfast. Molly fussed over the dishes, nudging them this way and that, and fiddling with the flower arrangement in the center of the table. She swatted Ron’s hand away from the plate of sausages, completely missing George sneaking little Victoire a rasher of bacon.

“Tuck in, everyone, tuck in.” She bustled around the table, presumably toward her chair, using the wooden spoon that always seemed to be tucked in her apron to rap Ron’s impatient hand again as he reached for a scone. 

“Oi, Mum! Why'd you keep hitting me?”

Molly planted her fists on her plump hips, “Ronald Billius Weasley, I thought I raised you to be a gentleman. You can at least wait until your mother sits to…”

A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind trapping her arms to her sides, “Ease up on him, Mum, for the scrawniest of the bunch, he’s always had the biggest appetite.” Charlie laid a smacking kiss on his mother’s cheek chuckling the whole while. When he released her she began to lay into him too.

“Charles Weasley, you can… Charlie?”

“Yes, Mum?” His eyes were bright with mischief.

“You’re home?”

“I’m home.”

The force of Molly’s hug threw the burly dragon trainer off balance. He returned her embrace, leaning to bury his head in her neck like a small child might. When they pulled away, Molly’s eyes were misty and Charlie had twin spots of red on his cheeks. “Well, tuck in, tuck in. It’s been too long since we’ve had everyone home.” Charlie slid onto the bench across the table from Hermione, shooting her a wink as the other occupants were distracted filling their plates.

Hermione let the buzz of the Weasley family engulf her as she nibbled on breakfast and sipped her coffee. Charlie’s eyes found hers several more times during the meal, but Hermione refused to read more into the glances than just friendly engagement.

It was no surprise that as the meal concluded, Hermione heard the call for a game of Quidditch. The Weasley’s and their Quidditch, what is a girl to do? Well, obviously, play Quidditch because Fred and George have a way with puppy dog eyes and the amused look on Charlie’s face as he passed her a broom spurred her competitive streak.

They took to the air at five a side, Hermione playing beater with Ginny and George as chasers, Harry seeker, and Fred keeper. Charlie took up his old house team position as seeker, with Bill and Percy chasers, Fluer as beater, and Ron reprising his role as keeper.  
  


Charlie floated up toward Hermione before the balls were released, “Oi, Bill, do you think it wise to put beater bats in the hands of these beautiful but deadly females?’

Bill floated closer to his wife and placed a besotted kiss on her cheek as she preened at the attention, “I’d say we’re lucky to have one on our side.”

“Too right you are.” He winked at Hermione as he eased his broom higher, “I hear a certain bookworm likes to fight dirty.”

The whistle sounded before Hermione could retort, but the bludger presented itself before her and she couldn’t resist. Raring back with the beater bat, she launched the charmed iron ball toward the laughing dragon tamer.

His laughter rang across the pitch as he tilted his head just the side, avoiding a direct hit. Hermione wanted to be mad, but she couldn’t find it in her not to enjoy the strong line of his back, and the taut curve of his bum as he gripped the broomstick and zoomed off across the pitch.

The Weasleys were a competitive bunch, but the game was by and large a friendly one. No one was injured, and Harry just managed to catch the snitch ahead of Charlie. 

They descended into the orchard, Charlie landing by Hermione and shaking the hair out of his eyes. His cheeks were red from the chill of the air and Hermione was pretty sure she was staring. Her breath caught as he slowly approached her and the red in her cheeks ceased to be from the sting of the cold air. “The wind does your hair no favors, Firecracker.” He reached out and smoothed a few wayward curls behind her ear. His fingers were cool against her skin, but left a tingling sensation in their wake.

“Absolutely shite performance,” George crowed coming up beside Charlie and slinging his arm over his shoulders. “Getting old is a real kick in the bollocks, eh?” Fred added, flanking Charlie on the other side.

The moment effectively ruined, Charlie elbowed the twins, twisted from their grasp and ran back toward the house. 

Hermione slung the broom over her shoulder and began to slog back through the high, crisp, winter grass. 

Ahead, she could see Charlie conspiring with Ron over something. _Oh please don’t let them set into some prank war with the twins._

She saw Ron look back her direction and shake his head then lope off, leaving Charlie to fall back.

He must have waited for her because when she caught up with him, he fell into step beside her. “Nothing like that wind in your face to get your blood flowing in the morning?”

“I suppose that’s one way. I prefer a good cup of coffee myself.”

Charlie laughed. The sound was rich and consuming as it washed over her. He held out his hand and Hermione stared at the callous palms. What would it feel like to hold Charlie’s hand? How would this fingers feel as they brushed over her cheek, or exploring the expanses of her skin… “Hermione?” Charlie’s voice broke her ponderings. “Do you want to give me your broom so I can put it in the shed?” Shaking the musing from her head, she handed over the broom and rushed back into the house. 

The rest of the day continued in a blur of cooking, hot cider, and much laughter. The men left mid afternoon and returned just as the light began to wane with fresh Norway Spruce floating behind them.

The tree was situated in a corner of the sitting room and Molly laid out a spread of snacks and punch as everyone gathered round to festoon the conifer with festive baubles.

The twins were in rare form as they charmed ornaments to fly around the room, much to the delight of little Victoire. She chased after the glittering golden orbs and holly sprigs; her laughter lighting the faces of each family member. Hermione stood by the punch bowl, so thrilled to be included in the joy of this occasion, but feeling nonetheless like an outsider. 

Victoire was sneaking up on a gold-leafed star, and right as her delicate hand closed around the ornament, her Uncle Charlie scooped her up onto his shoulder. Fluer and Bill stood off to the side, Bill’s arm around Fluer’s burgeoning belly, both radiating with happiness as their firstborn squealed with joy. A quick glance from Charlie and an affirming nod from Bill; and Victoire was being hoisted to the upper boughs of the tree to place the star on top.

That was the moment that Hermione Granger’s ovaries exploded… _No, wait…_

Once the star was seated securely on top of the tree, Victoire flipped herself around and threw her arms around her Uncle Charlie’s neck. To see his strong arms clasping around the ethereal child left Hermione with a sense of yearning she was _not_ prepared to unpack.

She remained on the outskirts of the party, her face flush with glee and–let’s face it–arousal. Meandering back to the punch bowl, she ladeled a healthy serving of the citrus concoction into a cup and took a deep sip. 

“Having fun there, Firecracker?”

She jumped, choked on her punch, and almost dropped her cup. Charlie’s deep chuckle at her back did not help her situation.

Turning slowly and tucking a wayward curl behind her ear, she met eyes with the intense, and playful dragon tamer. “It’s lovely,” she breathed, internally scolding herself for the breathless nature of her voice.

Charlie chuckled, ducking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to go talk to Ginny.” Hermione rushed out, but when she tried to move her feet toward the sitting area, they refused to comply.

The realization struck her like a bludger. Looking up she saw it. Charmed mistletoe. Whipping her head from side to side she saw the twins across the room looking right at she and Charlie, just separated from the rest of the family by the door way into the dining area, and trapped until they kissed.

Show me a Hermione Granger who had not fantasized about how her first kiss with Charlie Weasley would happen, and I’ll show you a liar.

However, a forced kiss under the charmed mistletoe was not the way she imagined it.

George shot her a very obvious wink from across the room, while Fred motioned with his hands for them to get on with it.

Hermione began to fidget with her hair and bite her lip. Charlie wore a very pleased smirk and took a step toward her.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to. We can…” his hand on her cheek stopped her cold.

“Hermione,” he muttered as he tucked a curl behind her ear, his fingers trailing back along her cheek, “I’m going to kiss you if you will allow it.”

Her mouth fell open and she could only nod as his smirk deepened into an excited grin and he leaned into her.

He swallowed her gasp as their lips connected. Hermione’s hands hung limp at her sides until Charlie brought his free hand to her waist and pulled her body against his and her hands found purchase on his firm chest.

Warm, soft, full lips pillowed against her lips, and the tip of his tongue teased her tongue.

He sucked gently at her bottom lip and she sighed into the kiss, allowing herself to fall deeper into his embrace. Charlie’s right hand was deep in her curls and his left was at the small of her back, pressing her curves against his firm torso.

As she pressed her body more insistently into his, he deepened the kiss. But the bliss of the moment was interrupted as a loud wolf-whistle, and several cat calls rang out around the room.

Hermione pulled back, her face bright with embarrassment, but Charlie seemed to let his grasp linger... In her hair, on her hip. And the smirk was back. 

He finally stepped away, giving Hermione a wink as he retreated across the room to where Bill stood, the look on his face one of question.

Hermione grabbed a biscuit for the platter and hastened to the sofa, tucking herself safely into Ginny’s side. 

“Christmas came early?” Ginny teased.

“Shut it, Gin.” The redhead laughed louder and slung an arm over Hermione’s shoulder.

The remainder of the evening was spent listening to Celstina Warbeck on the wireless and trying to avoid the amused looks Charlie kept sending her way.

* * *

  
As much as Hermione loved the Weasley’s and the Burrow, it was a loud and raucous place.

Growing up as an only child, she was unacustom–even after all these years–to the intensity of the activity that seemed to permeate every gathering.

She’d laid in her bed in Ginny’s old room listening to the final vestiges of activity fade away. Her eyes were closed for what seemed like hours before she gave up on the possibility of sleep at this moment.

Slipping from her bed, she pulled on some woolen socks, wrapped an afghan around her shoulders and stole down the stairs. She snuck into the kitchen and prepared a mug of hot chocolate.

The snow was falling in large silent flakes as she settled into the window seat. The Christmas tree was aglow with fairy lights and the hearth glimmered with the remnants of the fire.

She had no idea how long she sat. The hot chocolate mug lay empty on the floor and she snuggled herself into the blanket as she watched the world beyond the window become a blank landscape.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

She jumped at the whispered question. “Charlie! What are you doing?”

He held up a mug of hot chocolate and sat on the window seat by where her feet lay hidden beneath the blanket. She started to get up, but he placed a hand on her knee, “No, stay. I’d like the company… that is if you don’t mind my company.”

“Oh.” _How eloquent._ But she stayed.

They sat in what Hermione felt was a rather thick silence. It wasn’t tense, just imbued with something she was afraid to acknowledge.

“I haven’t told Mum and Dad yet, but I’m transferring to a preserve here in Britain.”

She dragged her eyes from the large flakes of snow and met his blue gaze. The light from the Christmas tree reflected in his irises, giving them an iridescent quality. She shook her head to clear the fuzz. “I’m sorry. What?”

His shoulders shook with amusement. “You have no idea what that does to me.” She cocked her head to the side in question, pieces of her messy bun falling loose. Charlie reached out to brush the tendrils behind her ear, “Keeping you on your toes like that.” She raised her eyebrows at him and he continued. “You are so smart, Hermione. You seem to know the answer to everything. But maybe you don’t know the answers to me.”

Her breath caught as his fingers continued to caress her cheek. “I don’t know the answers to you either.” She bit into her lip as he continued, “But I’d like to learn… if you’ll let me?”

She nodded and he scooted toward her on the seat, pulling her legs over his lap. Hermione sucked in a breath. “I’m going to kiss you now… that is, of course, if you’d like me to.”

Her hands rached up on their own accord to wrap around his neck and draw him toward her. 

The kiss beneath the charmed mistletoe started with tentative exploration, it was sweet and breathless, but this one… this kiss… it released a plume of fire through Hermione’s heart and soul. 

Charlies lips were as warm, soft, and full as before, but the pressure he gave was insistent and wanting.

He dragged her into his lap and wrapped his strong arms around her, his hands firm on her back as she grasped the hair at the back of his head. Where his tongue only teased before, now it stroked at Hermione’s, tasting her as deeply as she tasted him.

A desperate whimper left her mouth and Charlie pulled away with a gasp. He leaned into her, pressing his forehead to hers. “Merlin, Hermione, you can’t imagine how much I want you.”

“It can’t be more than I want you,” she whispered.

His face beamed as he pulled back. “Really?” He seemed incredulous. _Had he seen him?_ _Of course she wanted him!_ But it was so much more than that.

“Charlie,” she breathed, running her fingers over the stubble of his cheeks, taking every opportunity to learn him, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

He seemed to release a sigh of relief as he pulled her back in and kissed her until she felt lightheaded and dizzy and just completely grounded all at the same time. 

The snow continued to fall outside, and Charlie arranged them on the window seat, her back to his front; he nuzzled into her hair and breathed her in, his arms wrapped securely around her, as they watched the world transform.

When Hermione’s head bobbed a second time, Charlie nudged her to stand and led her up the stairs, back to Ginny’s room.

Standing in the upper hallway of the Burrow, Charlie placed a chaste kiss on Hermione’s lips, “Happy Christmas, Firecracker.”

“Happy Christmas, Charlie.”

He retreated to his room, grinning like a fool as Hermione snuck back into Ginny’s room doing the same.

* * *

The following morning, when Hermione stepped onto the ground floor of the Burrow, she was met with a knowing glance from Ginny and a cup of hot mulled cider from Charlie.

The whole of the day as the family opened presents, pulled Christmas Crackers, and ate Molly’s sumptuous cooking; Charlie kept Hermione tucked to his side.

The Weasley’s sent smile after smile their way. Ron even hugged her and whispered in her ear, “You’ll be great together.”

And when Charlie announced that he was coming home permanently, Molly burst into tears and started fussing over how they would plan _two_ weddings.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, Firecracker.”

Hermione looked up into his eyes, that fire from their first encounter all those years ago, still sparking bright, “Charlie Weasley, I knew I was stuck with you after that second kiss.”

Just for good measure she kissed him again.

  
  


The End… or perhaps just the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: December 12, 1972 is Charlie Weasley’s birthday (according to the internet!). So, Happy 47th Birthday, Charlie! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. I’d love to hear from you in the kudos and reviews! 
> 
> Happy Christmas!


End file.
